


Mac Gets Hate Crimed

by minaasshido



Series: gabi's sunny fics [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, But yeah fair warning there's homophobia, Dennis is protective as shit, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, I mean it is a hate crime, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Sad Mac McDonald, also sorry to Mac, sorry - Freeform, sorry if this sucks lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23943178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minaasshido/pseuds/minaasshido
Summary: Mac is the victim of a hate crime, and Dennis is both comforting and protective.
Relationships: Charlie Kelly & Mac McDonald, Mac McDonald & Dennis Reynolds, Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Series: gabi's sunny fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726819
Comments: 3
Kudos: 117





	Mac Gets Hate Crimed

Mac is leaving the gym when it happens. 

If Mac had to choose a place that he thought something like this would happen, he probably would've guess outside the Rainbow, or maybe even Paddy's where he knows he talks pretty loudly about being gay and he knows that the patrons can probably hear him. But the gym? The gym was Mac's place to just be Mac, to not have to worry about anything else but the weights in his hands, to not have to think about whatever issues might be plaguing him at the time. The gym was his safe haven, not a battleground.

"Hey!" calls a voice, and Mac looks to his right. There's a trio of guys hovering near the parking meter nearest to the alley- they're standing with their arms crossed, their eyes on Mac. Mac recognizes them from the gym, but even if he hadn't, he would've been able to tell that they used it. Mac pointed a finger at himself, questioning, and the guys nodded, gesturing for him to come over. 

"Hey guys, what's up?" Mac asks, greeting them with a confused, but genuine smile. "You work out yet today? I just got done."

The guys don't look impressed, and one of them scoffs at Mac. He rolls his eyes, too, which Mac thinks is pretty catty of him, but the reaction puts a bad feeling in his stomach. "I got a question for you, man," he said. 

"What is it?" he asks. 

"I was walking downtown a couple'a days ago, and I was walking past that fairy bar, The Rainbow," he starts, and Mac flinches as the way he spits out the name of the bar, swallows hard at the anxious feeling creeping up in his stomach, "and I could've sworn I saw a guy who looked just like you walking out. With another dude."

Mac knows what that tone means. It's the tone he heard so many times from his father, from his mother, from Frank sometimes, from himself. Mac thinks he knows whats happening. Where this might be headed. He doesn't know how he's supposed to stop it from happening. He doesn't know if he can. "Are you one of them fags, man?" asks one of the others, tone accusing and harsh. Mac's stomach rolls over and cartwheels up into his chest, and suddenly it's hard to breathe.

Mac could say no. He could deny, deny, deny, like he'd done for so long before he was out. Forty years of pretending to be- no, convincing himself that he was straight, what was one more time, one lie to save himself from this? But he doesn't think that he could. Mac knows what reaction his answer will get him, but he also knows that if he denies it then he might hate himself even more. Mac has spent too long pretending to be something he's not. He's not going back, even if this is what it means for him.

He takes a deep breath, ignores the panic welling in his chest as he says, "Yeah, I'm one of them fags." 

All three of the men frown at him. "Well then I better not see you back at this gym, faggot," says the first guy, and he steps up close to Mac, getting right in his face. Mac would usually counter with some insults of his own, get right back in the guy's face, scream at him a bit. Mac does not do that now.

"You don't own this gym," Mac tells him softly, and why, _why_ is he still talking? Why is he making this worse for himself? 

"Yeah, well I pay to use it," he snaps. "And I don't pay to get fucking stared at by homos all day long. Fucking perverted! I need you to keep that shit away from me. It's not right."

Mac wants to cry. He feels so stupid, because up until right this second the idea of this happening to him hadn't seemed like a real possibility. That shit only happened on the news. "Man, I'm just here to work out," he tries weakly. "And I wanna go home now. Can I just go?" He gestures towards the walkway with the hand he's using to carry his bag, and the guy closest to him jumps back, making a show of it.

"Did you see that? He tried to hit me!" He yells, and Mac's heart stops in his chest. 

"No," he says, and Mac knows that he's strong but there's one of him and three of them, and he really doesn't want to have to deal with this. "No, I didn't, just-"

"You're gonna fucking pay for that, you goddamn fairy," he growls, and suddenly Mac is being shoved, he's stumbling towards the alley, out of sight, away from people. His heart's jumped to his throat, he can feel it pounding, he thinks he's going to throw up. 

The three guys start at him, and Mac does the only thing he can, which is fight back.

* * * * *

Dennis is standing behind the bar, playing around with a rag. Everyone's there except Mac, and they're fucking around doing who knows what. Dee is saying something to Charlie, who is also talking to Frank and not paying attention to Dee. Frank is talking about his goddamn toe knife again, like the heathen he is, and Dennis is dutifully tuning it out. He presses a shot glass into the wooden surface of the bar when Dee gestures for one, and she throws it back as soon as it's in front of her. There's a few patrons scattered about the bar, but none of them call for another round.

Suddenly, a movement near the back entrance catches his eye, and Dennis turns to see Mac walking in. He tenses immediately, knowing something's wrong. Mac doesn't come through the back door. He doesn't just _silently_ walk into a room, shoulders hunched and head down like he doesn't want anyone to actually notice he's here. Something's wrong with Mac.

"Woah, Mac, what the hell happened to you?" Charlie's loud voice cuts over Frank's toe knife rant and catches the attention of Mac. He freezes in his spot, halfway to the bathroom, and turns to send the gang a quick glance. Dennis notices with a jolt that Mac looks beat- he's got dark bruises spotting his left cheekbone, his jaw, and there's blood on his lip. From the parts of his arms and chest that his shirt doesn't cover, it's obvious he has more bruises on his torso. 

"Isn't it obvious?" Frank said through a belch. "He got in a fight." He turned to Mac. "So did you win? Who was it? Tell me you kicked their ass."

"I'm gonna go clean up," is all Mac says in response. He sounds tired, and hurt, and Dennis knows this because he knows Mac, but he's the only one who picks up on it.

"What no, 'you should see the other guy'?" Dee asked. "Not gonna brag about it?" 

"Yeah, Mac, I thought that's what you were all about," Frank says, and Jesus Christ, are they _goading_ him? "Bein' a big tough bodyguard, fighting people, keepin' them rowdy bastards out the bar-" 

"I don't want to talk about it," Mac says, and Dennis can hear the strain in his voice, the pained way the words come out. Mac repeats himself from earlier, "I'm just gonna go clean up," before he slowly makes his way to the bathroom. Dennis swears he sees a shine in his roommate's eyes before he disappears behind the swinging door.

Dennis blinks after him, he and the rest of the gang stunned into silence. Something was definitely wrong. Mac didn't act like this, ever. So curled in on himself, so subdued and quiet and defeated. "What the fuck was that about?" Frank huffs, turning back to Charlie. 

"I don't know man," Dee says, eyeing the bathroom door. "He seems out of it." 

Dennis stares at the bathroom door. "I'm going in there," he announces, walking around the bar and toward the bathroom. 

"Woah, Dennis, I don't know if that's a good idea," Charlie tells him. "Mac doesn't seem like he's in a good mood."

"Exactly," Dennis snaps, whirling around. He feels a wave of anger rising in his stomach and forces himself to push it down. "He just got in a fight and he's not in a good mood. And as his roommate and best friend, it is my duty to go in there to cheer him the fuck up, or patch him the fuck up, or whatever."

Dennis thinks he hears Dee mutter something about how he's definitely not doing this because it's his duty, but he _dutifully_ ignores her comment and opens the door to the bathroom, stepping carefully inside. It's quiet except for the sound of water running.

"Mac?" he tries, coming fully into the bathroom. He startles at the sight he stumbles upon- Mac is standing at the sink furthest from the door, shirt off and hands clenched on either side of the sink. He's staring at himself in the mirror, but he looks over slightly when Dennis walks in. Now Dennis can see clearly that there are tears in his eyes. "Hey, buddy, what happened?" he asks, soft and quiet, like he's trying not to scare a cornered animal. He supposes it's appropriate, since a cornered animal is exactly what Mac looks like at the moment.

As soon as he asks the question, Mac bursts into tears. He presses a hand over his mouth and ducks his head, crying into the sink. Dennis is struck with fear and anger and concern all at once. Just what the hell had happened to make Mac like this? Dennis wanted to find whoever did this to him and tear them apart, piece by piece. Instead, he rushed forward, wrapping an arm around Mac's shoulders. Mac flinched, but didn't pull away, and he let Dennis gently pull him away from the sink, over to the counter by the other wall and sit him down on the stool. 

Mac doesn't seem to be able to stop crying. He just leans forward and presses his face into his hands, which can't feel good on his bruises, sobbing into his fingers. Dennis watches as his tears escape through the gaps in his fingers, run across the back of his hand, down his forearm. There are a lot of them.

Dennis doesn't know what to do, so he settles for what he always does. He crouches next to Mac and wraps his arms around him, stroking the back of his head in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. "It's okay, buddy," he says, but he feels stupid saying it because clearly everything is not okay. "I'm here, I got you. Take a deep breath."

Mac tries and fails to take a deep breath, shaky and disoriented from crying so hard. He keeps petting the back of Mac's head, squeezes him in a tight hug with the arm he has wrapped around him, and just lets himself be there. No words, no empty assurances, just him letting Mac get it all out and being there for him. He doesn't know what else he can do, but he knows how to do this at least. 

After a while, Mac's sobs taper off into soft cries, and after another couple minutes he's stopped completely, the only noise coming from him being the occasional sniffle. Carefully, Dennis retracts his arms from around Mac, who suddenly looks up at him with wide, scared eyes. Dennis' heart breaks at the look on his face. His eyes are red rimmed and puffy, his cheeks shining with tears and snot. When Dennis looks at him, he sees the pain, the fear, the desperation in his expression. Mac reaches out and grabs Dennis' wrist, gentle and timid. "Please stay," he whispers, gaze falling to the floor in what seems like shame. His voice is shot to hell from all the crying he'd just done.

"Relax," Dennis assures him, and he pats Mac's hand with his own. "I'm just gonna get you some water, okay? You just cried a shit ton, you're gonna get dehydrated."

Mac nods mutely, and his grip slackens on Dennis' wrist so that he can pull away and walk back into the bar. 

"So what's up?" Dee asks as he emerges from the bathroom, making a beeline for the mini-fridge they kept under the bar. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"No," Dennis tells her, gritting his teeth. Why does she have to be so nosy? "He didn't say a goddamn thing." He leaned over the bar, reaching for the fridge and opening it before grabbing a bottle of water and righting himself again. "I'm just getting him some water."

Dee's eyes bug out. "He seriously didn't say anything?"

"Well, he was kind of too busy sobbing his eyes out," Dennis huffs, annoyed that she's pressing the subject. He feels that wave of anger rising in him again, but this time he doesn't think to push it down. 

"Mac was crying?" This is Charlie, who's looking at Dennis with those wide, sad eyes of his. He looks concerned for his friend, and Dennis can't fault him for that even if for some reason he really wants to right now. Charlie knows just as well as Dennis that even though Mac is one of the most emotional bastards on the planet, he rarely cried. Sure, he wore his heart on his sleeve, and he was excitable and expressive and liked to talk about his feelings. But Mac McDonald did not _cry_ unless there was an actual, horribly painful reason for it. 

Dennis knows that Charlie has been there for the times that Mac has cried in the past, even when Dennis wasn't. Charlie was there the first time that Mac's dad got arrested, and he was there the fifteenth time his dad got arrested and sentenced twenty years. Charlie was there when Mac's mom stopped caring, when he fell from a tree and broke his arm, when he started to realize he might be gay and was terrified and drunk and vulnerable. "Yeah," Dennis tells him with a grimace, because Charlie deserves to know. "I'm gonna see if he'll tell me why."

"Don't push him," Charlie says, and his face is scrunched with worry. Dennis risks a glance at the others- Dee looks about as worried as Charlie, and even Frank has the decency to look mildly concerned. 

"I won't," Dennis says, and then he's heading back into the bathroom. 

Mac is back at the sink, and he's gingerly wiping water from his face with his t-shirt. He looks at Dennis when he comes in. His lips twitch like he's trying to acknowledge him with a smile, but the smile doesn't come. Mac just looks back at the mirror, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," he croaks, but he accepts the bottle of water when Dennis holds it out for him. He opens it, drinks the entire thing in one go. 

"Why the hell are you sorry, Mac?" Dennis asks, frowning. 

Mac furrows his brow. "For-" he winces, waving his hand in the direction of the stool he'd been crying on. Like that was an acceptable answer. He doesn't say anything after that.

"You don't have to apologize for that," Dennis tells him. "Actually, you shouldn't. So don't." Mac nods slowly, and he doesn't try to apologize again. Dennis takes it as a win. "Are you ready to tell me what happened?" he asks. Mac's eyes well with tears again, and for a terrifying moment Dennis thinks he's about to start sobbing again, but he just bites his lip to keep it from quivering and wipes at his eyes with the palm of his hand. He's purposefully facing away from Dennis, like he doesn't want him to see him cry.

"I was at the gym," he mumbled. "Leaving. There were these guys and they- they said they recognized me from The Rainbow. And they-" Mac cut himself off when he began to choke up again, and Dennis felt that rage in him surge like a tidal wave. Mac didn't need to finish his sentence because Dennis could already gather what had happened. Mac took a shuddering breath. "I tried to fight back, but there were three of them, and- and-"

"Shh," Dennis coos, and he steps forward to wrap Mac in a hug- a real hug this time, not like the detached side hug from earlier. Mac falls into it, burying his face in Dennis' shoulder and holding tight. Dennis cradles the back of his head with his hand. "It's okay. You did your best. You did so good."

Mac shudders against him. Dennis feels a small wet spot forming on his shoulder, and he knows Mac's teared up again. Speaking into the crook of his neck, Mac says brokenly, "I just got used to not being afraid." His voice cracks when he says it and Dennis is almost shaking from trying to contain his rage. 

"Mac," Dennis starts, low and steady and cool as steel, "You don't have to be afraid. Not as long as you have me."

"You're not always with me," Mac sniffs, burrowing deeper into the hug. Dennis squeezes him lightly, a comforting gesture. 

"I know," he says. "That's why we're gonna take care of those guys for you."

This is what gets Mac to pull away from the hug, to look at Dennis with confusion and apprehension in his eyes. "Take care of them?"

Dennis nods. "Those fuckers aren't going anywhere near you ever again. I'm making sure of that." Mac opens his mouth like he wants to ask another question, but Dennis shakes his head. "We'll start by going back to the gym, telling the staff, and getting them banned for fucking life." He doesn't tell Mac that he plans to formulate a continuation of that plan, one that hopefully involves a lot of pain on the other guy's end, maybe a bit of emotional destruction. Mac doesn't need that right now. Right now, Mac would ask him not to do that- and Dennis knows that if Mac asked him not to, he wouldn't, so he keeps it to himself. 

"Okay," Mac quietly agrees. 

"Good," Dennis says. He smiles at Mac, soft and reassuring, and this time, Mac manages to give him a weak smile back.


End file.
